Confessions Written in Blood
by XHellXGeistX
Summary: A volatile Bonnie and Clyde/Natural Born Killers type romance forms between the Lone Wanderer and a Raider. The match made in Hell will ravage the Capital Wasteland like a tornado and the pair will only stop once their self-destructive dance is complete.
1. Killing for a Living

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything pertaining to Fallout, NBK or Bonnie and Clyde. Just the story itself and original characters I developed._

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**Confessions Written in Blood – Killing for a Living  
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My name is – I'm not going to tell you my name. All you need to know it that I hated the Wasteland since I first saw it. It was a desolate and cruel place; it was derived entirely from human nature. Human nature dropped the bombs, human nature found a way to survive and human nature used that survival not to fix and better the world but to continue causing pain towards its fellow man. Growing up in the Vault I learned of human history and thought that maybe there was a chance that humanity would grow from this. I thought that perhaps they would say "enough" and cease all of this insanity, but of course like every war that never happens. No matter the amount of suffering it will never stop. Why you ask? Well, that's just human nature and that's just what I became. Let me explain.

I quickly experienced the harshness of the Wasteland and I learned to adapt to it. This changed me. I was a real nice guy but I became somewhat of a bastard, you could say.

I needed to be a bastard. Everyone and everything I came across either wanted me dead or didn't care or was just there for business. I decided to cash in on the business aspect of the Wastes. "Business" meant two things to me: both trading and selling goods of some sort, or a darker type of entrepreneurship. I learned that I could thrive in the shady underworld of business that the Wastes had to offer. Shady could mean a number of things.

I sold any hard drugs, extra weapons and escaped slaves I found to one of my contacts, who ran a drug/slave/weapons trafficking business. Needless to say, he was doing pretty well for himself and I made good money out of that. That guy is part of what we call the "Tenpenny Circle", and I met him through a guy named Burke. Him and I became business partners after he paid me an awfully generous sum of caps to blow a shanty place called "Megaton" to shit. The place was homely in a way, and the people were okay, but the money was worth more to me than weak sentimentality of any sort.

Money helped me eat, sleep, bathe and cope. It was my reward for staying alive through the constant abuse the Wastes would thrust upon me, all of the bullshit life flung at me. It was my source of pride, strength and motivation. What's more, in the Circle I got paid to do the things I enjoyed. I got used to the killing, I actually had started to like it, and I had always been fascinated by War and violence. Tenpenny needed a competitor eliminated? I was sent in to assassinate. Were Zombies hindering Tenpenny's profit? I was sent on a Search and Destroy mission and didn't come back until they were all dead. Some of them would beg, some of them wouldn't. Some of them were women and kids and others were old. None of it made any difference to me. Have you ever seen a Ghoul run? You wouldn't think it, but those rotting Zombie legs could carry them far.

None are faster than bullets however.

Ghouls are all useless, bound to turn Feral because of all the worms that slowly start feasting on their brain. They are parasites themselves, and I'm just making the Wasteland a safer place. Anyway, Tenpenny isn't as much a stiff upper lip businessman as he would like the public to think (what's left of the public). He needs people like me to do his dirty work. How do you think he makes money? It isn't through legal business methods, that won't get you far where I live. Besides, in the Capital Wasteland there is no real law.

I realized I needed to protect my identity after Regulators started coming after me, so I started to go by the name "Geist", meaning "ghost" or "spirit" in German. Now, I'm Hispanic, far from German but I fell in love with the language and felt it was fitting name for a new life. I made a vow to never go by my real name. Soon enough, I developed a reputation in the Wastes as a sort of "Grim Reaper" or "Wasteland Boogeyman"; it was actually kind of fun. People thought that I was always a hard-nosed killer so I used that to my advantage and developed a personality out of it. I couldn't let anyone find out that there were times I cried, or felt lonely at night or desired love or affection of any sort. Too weak, too useless, it would ruin me. I needed to stay as the black clad armored soldier, not some emotional wreck.

I had recently accomplished one of my missions, given to me by Burke. Some druggy slime bag in Rivet City stopped paying one of our associates their due. I was to approach him in secret, and get him to pay. He tells me he had an especially rough fight with his wife one night and that he blew the money on booze at the local tavern.

To make a long and drawn out story short, he didn't have the money.

This was unacceptable, so I shot him, took his stuff, waited for his wife to come home and put a gun to her temple. I told her to shut the hell up and meet me outside the city in five minutes or I would track her down and kill her. The slut was smart, she must have known who I was so she did as she was told and I put a slave collar on her and sent her on her merry way. That covered the expenses. It's a shame how life works, lady married the wrong guy and because her husband was a deadbeat drug addict, she'll probably be sucking off slavers for the rest of her miserable existence. Another reason why not to do drugs: there's no respect in it.

Anyhow, Mr. Tenpenny doesn't like being fucked with, and neither do I.

The evening I started to head back was especially windy in particular, and I was grateful for the armor I was wearing. The beginnings of a sandstorm was on the horizon but thanks to the combat armor I had taken off of some Talon bastards that attacked me, I was well protected. I had found some balaclava and an undershirt from the remains of a Chinese Special Ops soldier a while back and that had paid off immensely. I was tentative about wearing any of it at first, but after washing both things a few times they proved to be great assets against the environment. Coupled with the sunglasses/goggles I bought off of some trader, the sandstorm didn't slow me down until about half an hour later when it became too thick to see through.

Since I could hear gunshots, growls and screams in the distance I thought it best to stop for the night. I looked to my right and saw what looked to be a beat up supermarket in the distance, so I made my way there. As I drew close I could see the sign, it read "Super-Duper Mart".

I gave a raspy chuckle, as my throat was uncomfortably dry from the arid climate. "Super-Duper Mart huh? That's a fuckin' queer name, isn't it Sofia?" Sofia was my modified Chinese assault rifle, as I had named her. Sofia was the only thing I loved. I gave her a sexy black finish and I had a scope and suppressor for her. I also bought her a bayonet, which I called my "wedding ring" to her. Ha, she never takes it off. I could have sworn to you she was my everything. I survived countless struggles, battles and hardships with Sofia. Derived from Russian AK series, she never once jammed on me, was as tough as I was (she never bitches unlike some women) and I hardly ever had to maintain her (although I did my best to keep her spotless).

Besides Sofia I had my sidearm: a (also modified) "Blackhawk" .44 Magnum revolver. I didn't treasure it as much as my dear Sofia, but it had saved my ass a number of times. I also couldn't forget my ballistic knife, had some real laughs with that.

Yeah, I named my gun. Yes I called her a "she".

No, I wasn't crazy – I just felt alone sometimes. I had been alone since I started my journey months ago. Or was it a year? I didn't know anymore, time blended together. My sonofabitch father had caused some ruckus back at the Vault I grew up in and I was forced to leave or die when I was 18. I grew to dislike that place too; it was a giant cultish prison camp. I didn't mind leaving, thought the circumstances could've been better, though. I didn't much care for my father, we stopped having a good relationship as I got older, let's just say we clashed often, so I set out to try and make a life and name for myself here. Now 19 and well established within my own "community", things were still crap but they were better.

That is to say, at least I wasn't _dead._


	2. Supermarket Overkill

Isn't Geist simply awesome? I bet he's the type of guy you'd all love to pal around with.**  
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**Confessions Written in Blood - Supermarket Overkill**

I eyed the supermarket through Sofia's scope as I made my way through the lonely Capital Wasteland twilight. I quickly affixed her with her suppressor all the while noticing my hands were trembling. It had been ages since I had my last kill with Sofia. I hadn't had to do any serious work since I blew up Megaton a couple months ago, so I had been taking it easy at my place at Tenpenny's (mostly getting shitfaced drunk). The last mission I took was just to ensure payment. I didn't need Sofia for such a simple job, and I lamented that.

I knew the Mart was packed with Raiders since I had done some recon work for Tenpenny in the area since he was thinking of expanding his "empire" to different parts of the Wasteland. Since the Mart is near to what was once Megaton, he was thinking he could level the Super Mart too and build a new mart in its place for the people that would inhabit the new area he planned to build on top of Megaton's ruins. It really didn't make a difference to me as long as he gave me my cut.

I noticed the lot wasn't empty and I hurriedly took a position behind a blown-up car. I heard barking as well as screaming so I looked through my scope again I spotted what appeared to be a Wastelander in rags being attacked by a rabid, half-ghoulified dog. They were raising all sorts of noisy hell, and I wanted to drop the raiders as they slept. At this rate, everyone in the Mart would awaken and I couldn't have that.

I switched my baby to her semi-automatic mode and took aim. First, I put the foul beast in my sights and pulled the trigger. I smirked at how smooth and natural it felt to fire Sofia again, at the same time making a mental note of how seriously fucked up it was that it was one of the only things that made me smile anymore. Killing with Sofia was how her and I made love. It was an intimate process between man and machine, the user and the used.

The mutt I downed didn't even have time to whimper as it fell harshly to its side, a crater in its head where Sofia made her mark. The man that was being chased had heard something and was clearly confused, I saw him turn his head behind him and come to a halt after spotting the dead dog. As he looked around for the source, I chuckled quietly. "Fucker doesn't have survival skills." I took aim again and shot him square in the neck.

He fell instantly, clutching his neck all the while making these nasty gurgling noises. "Nice job Sofia." I muttered to my gun (of all things) while I silently ran in, closing in on the meters left until I was right next to the man, being sure to stick to the shadows.

_Did I mention how much I liked Night Ops? I liked it even more than my S&D missions._

The fucker I had just shot was still alive, but barely. He was wheezing and struggling for breath with a bullet lodged in his throat, and he looked up at me with these glazed-over dim blue eyes. I looked him over in disgust as I searched him for any drugs, weapons or ammo. I quickly realized he didn't have shit on him. As I moved to stand up he grabbed me with one hand and showed me a picture a teen girl with raven hair and the words "Have you seen her?" written hastily on the bottom. I shook my head and said "Nope, she's sexy though. Probably dead, better off."

He gave me a look as if to say "Why did you shoot me?" He looked severely dehydrated, which was probably why it was taking him so long to bleed out and die. I stood up and simply stated "Wrong place, wrong time." I then grew tired of looking at the sad sight that was this man and brought my bayonet down into his skull. He died instantly. I pulled it out and made my way to one of the front entrances and put my ear to the door. I heard no movement, so I counted to three in my head, crouched in a military firing stance and opened it.

Once I saw it was all clear I switched my love to her 2 bullet burst fire mode and hustled in, silently closing the door behind me. I counted seven raiders, most asleep. I quickly took out the ones keeping watch on makeshift walkways made of wooden planks on top of the isles. I made my way through what used to be the frozen foods section and found a raider fast asleep on some makeshift bedding. I slit his throat quickly in a move I called the "Mister Sandman" approach. He died silently in his sleep.

I had three down, four to go. I was happy that I had as of yet not been discovered, but that happiness was short lived.

"Mother of fuck, there's someone in here! Wake the hell up people, he just got three of our guys!"

I dove into cover, and not a moment too soon as a torrent of small arms fire splintered some of the wood I was near, showering me with sawdust. All the lights in the mart came on at once, and I felt slightly blinded as my eyes were deprived of the darkness they had grown so accustomed too over the long night ours of my trip. I quickly took off Sofia's suppressor, there no use in wearing it out and I thought it better to go loud since I was already discovered. I had really been hoping to make this a clean operation, to get quick shelter and food, but the Raiders had other plans.

I switched Sofia to full auto and took out the Raider who was still screaming a series of orders and obscenities. I laughed as I saw him fall, body quivering and riddled with holes as I threw a grenade in the direction that his comrades were firing from to cover my dash over to the back of the store. The blast from the M23 hand grenade killed one and wounded another. His wounded friend was more pissed than hurt (hyped up on Psycho I bet) and rushed me with his combat shotgun. I rolled out of his firing trajectory and squeezed off a burst into his chest and he fell unceremoniously, his final curse to me fresh off his tongue.

The Wasteland had taught me well, fighting to survive is always the best training. While lying on my back I heard as well as spotted the next and last asshole, though did not have time to react as the unarmed assailant (who probably couldn't find his weapon after waking up high off his ass) dove into me from the side, knocking my sweet Sofia away from me. I heard her clatter to the ground, and as you can imagine this pissed me off a great deal.

This guy was stronger than I was and probably the leader, I tried to reach my sidearm but couldn't, and we were at a bit of a stalemate until I reached for my ballistic knife tucked away in my boot. He was so preoccupied with making sure I couldn't get to my revolver that I was able to pull my knife out, but he spotted it before I could go for his heart. The next few moments were spent wrestling to get the upper hand, I have to say I was a little worried. I was hoping to be done in by some giant Wasteland behemoth, something respectable at least. Not some prick Raider. Soon enough however, be made the fatal flaw all of my combatants do:

mistaking my ballistic knife for a combat knife.

He started to angle my knife inwards, hoping to catch me in the neck, and I found my golden moment. I turned my head and pulled on the pin of my knife with my teeth, when the blade was aligned with his eye I pressed the button on the handle of my knife.

The scene that played out next was gruesome. The blade of my knife had flown out and lodged into the guy's left eye. It just completely exploded it. His other eye widened in a state of shock and he went limp. I pushed the corpse off me, and needless to say retrieving my blade was not work for anyone with a weak stomach. As I pieced my knife back together – blade, pin and all I got to work cleaning it with the guys shirt. It was then that I heard noise at the front entrance again – more were closing in fast.


	3. All Apologies

Super Market shootouts and now... a sexy girl! Looks like our boy's luck is changing. The title is a nod to Nirvana, in case you can't tell.

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**Confessions Written in Blood - All Apologies**

I had greatly misjudged how hard it would be to just take a Mart from some brutes. Quickly, I put my knife away and grabbed Sofia, then made my way to the back of the store for cover. Looking through my scope again, I counted four and opened fire on the one furthest to the right. He went down nice and easy, but I didn't have time to get the other three as they hit the ground and I heard an exclamation of "Fuckin' Christ on a stick!"

I quickly got to my feet and rushed in closer, noting that they couldn't see me at for that moment. I tossed a mine into the firing position I had previously. As soon as they recovered from the death of their friend they were on me again. Bullets started whizzing by near where I was previously, and one rushed in stupidly, only to be torn to shreds by my friend Mr. Mine. Number two was about to follow suit but stopped right next to where I was as soon as he saw his friend get blown to kingdom come. Lucky for me, he couldn't see me so I punched him in the temple to daze him and sliced him open when he least expected it.

There was only one left and it was quiet, neither of us was making a sound. I swiftly and systematically started turning off lights again; keeping Sofia up to bear and keeping the sights on where I knew the last one was hiding. That's when I heard her. "You wouldn't kill an unarmed gal like me, would you?" she called out to me in a sweet voice. I frowned ever so slightly. I actually didn't like having to kill girls (non-ghoul ones anyway) but no one could be trusted and that meant no one could be spared. I was just about to get a grenade primed to blow her out of cover until I heard her speak again: "I like your style kid, maybe we could work together."

"Kid? Who are you calling a kid? I just destroyed your entire gang!"

Where the hell did she get off calling me a kid? "I could have done it in half the time babe, trust me. If I weren't unarmed you wouldn't be speaking." I laughed. "If you're so goddamn tough, how'd you get in this situation and why are you paling around with Raiders?" "A girls gotta eat!" she called back. "And I'm only unarmed because one of the pricks I was with managed to break his rifle and I let him take mine instead. I need to play the part don't I?" I wasn't normally so soft, but something about her voice made it hard to want to shoot her. It's hard to say this, but it soothed me. Made me feel all right. "Just get the hell outta cover." I said. "Make any sudden moves and you'll find yourself shot."

She came out of cover with a smirk on her face and a glint in her eyes. She had her hands up and looked at me dead on. I have to say she had more guts than most of the people I faced off against, especially with Sofia staring her right between the eyes. Her stance didn't waver and that grin she had only grew wider. "Nice weapon" she complemented. "A heavily modified Chinese assault rifle. I personally prefer it over the R91 myself, may not be as accurate but it's sturdy, and reliable. Plus, a good marksman could more than make up for it."

This caught my attention, but I refused to show it yet. She looked unarmed, but I wasn't about to take any chances with a possible concealed weapon or explosive. "Down. On the ground. Now." My voice came out firm with a hint of impatience. "I need to check you for weapons. Nothing personal." Thankfully, she complied and I quickly checked her out. It was tough fighting down certain... "feelings" as I made sure she wasn't hiding anything near her chest or nether regions. I then thanked her and helped her up, noticing we were both tinged a slight rouge afterwards. "Sorry for invading your privacy. I've seen some crazy shit out here in the Wastes and you can never be too careful around others." The young woman nodded knowingly at me. "Don't I know it." "Anyway, I like the way you think." I finally told her, impressed that she cared enough to know the difference between the two most commonly used assault weapons found in the DC Wastes.

Sofia was promptly put away and extended my hand to her and I was again surprised when she looked me dead in the eye and gave my hand a firm shake. "Nice to see you're a man of manners." She exclaimed. I couldn't help but grin. "It isn't every day I meet someone of your caliber. What's your name?" "Quinn is the only name I go by. What about you, stranger? You look like a hired gun." I let out a small chuckle. "You could say that. The name's Ace." At the back of my mind I realized I broke my code of not giving out my true name, but somewhere between her looking so beautiful and promising I simply stopped caring. As she and I shook hands, something dawned on me – something that took the grin right off my face. She saw my face fall and was about to ask me what was wrong, but I beat her to it. "You don't happen to have any friends or family left, do you?" "The only person from my past still alive is my step father." __

_**Shit. **_

The hairs on the back of my neck bristled and I felt suddenly uneasy. I did my best to swallow down my nervousness, finding it odd that I felt so affected by what this young woman might think of me. "Did he, uh, carry around a picture of you – was he searching for you?"

She nodded at me, her blue-grey eyes widening ever so slightly. "Yeah. Obsessed in finding me since I… left, you could say." I looked to the side, avoiding eye contact while rubbing my chin thinking of the best way to say what I now regretted. I decided to be blunt about it, so as to get the situation over with. What was I so afraid of anyway? I was the one with the gun after all. Did I fear I'd hurt her? I'm supposed to be a selfish bastard!

"Your father… stepfather, I killed him. His body's out back next to the front entrance. I'm sorry. I didn't really… think about what I was doing. I swear it was nothing personal." As I said the words, cold and detached, my frigid black heart beat with a dull ache. Funny how now I cared, all of a sudden. Of all the times I've killed for money, personal gain and vengeance, this was the only time I felt truly remorseful and – dare I say it – sad. Quinn looked down in a state of shock and I skillfully resisted the sudden urge to put my arms around her. At this urge I fought off a twinge of ire – to think I'd ever be this sentimental about a person again. I had just met her, hardly knew her but I wanted her to like me. Instead, I went out and killed her dad. She'll hate me for it and want me dead like everyone and everything else. I stopped looking at her, not wanting to see how she was taking it.

Her hand clutched my shoulder I heard her voice come out softly, as if in a whisper. "So, you just shot him?" "He was in my way." It was lame, but all I could manage. My voice came out more hoarse than usual and my face radiated with shame. _"Fuck."_ I thought bitterly, _"Just fuck."_


End file.
